Identity

We are everything we are. Everything we've lived, everything we've experienced, liked, hated, forgotten…, has turned us into the people we are today.

We are, but we change, and changing is part of who we are. I'm not the same person I was five years ago, yet something remains: I still have a thing for chocolate and books, although I'm more mature and fearless than back then. I was, but I'm not who I was anymore.

Identity is complicated. It changes, but there's always something there to comfort us, a tiny little voice that calms us down whenever we don't recognize ourselves. "It's still you, this person you've become", it says. We believe that voice because it brings back our memories. Those stay with us forever, and yet they change too. Some we forget, some we remember quite differently to the way they happened. Some we love. Some we don't.

The change is good and also something we need to get used to, because we can't stop time and stay the same forever. However, it's always a relief to recognize the person you've become and identify it with the one you were. We are the ones that are gonna be with ourselves until death comes, aren't we?

That's why it felt so good to re-read “The unchosen one” the other day. It's something I wrote a while ago about something that happened years ago, yet it feels fresh. It feels like me. That text is not everything I am; I chose which things I'd say and which ones I'd keep to myself, and that choice –which is something only someone with my same identity would've done the exact same way– is one I don't regret at all. I feel identified with it, if I were to make that choice again I wouldn't change a thing.

“The unchosen one” is not everything I am, but it is everything I once where and one of the many reasons why I am who I am today.

Midnight in love

   “So… you actually like me.”

   “Wasn't it obvious?”, she replied perplexed. He felt the urge to caress her red cheek, although the fear of ruining her irreal beauty dismissed that need. Instead, he just answered. “Maybe. I was too busy liking you to notice.”

   “Flash-back of you liking all my pictures from Facebook”, she said winking.

   He couldn't help but horselaugh, his arms holding on to his belly as if the laughter could tear him apart. She immediately joined him, and soon they were nothing but a pair of young lovers hugging and laughing under the moon.

On how to fully understand love

  Love is the purest of the feelings. It gives and never asks for anything in return, yet it makes us feel complete although we are the ones giving.

  I have always had that clear in my mind, but today I've had an epiphany: "I love you more than I love him/her" does not exist. Let me explain this carefully.

  If we talk about true love, I must make clear that it is different for everyone. I don't love my mother the same way I love my sister or my friends, but that does not mean I love one more or less than the other. I love them differently, just like they love me back in their own way, and when it comes to truly loving, there is no limit on the amount of people you can feel that towards.

  I have to confess I felt a bit sad a few days ago. I wrongly thought my father had a deeper connection with my brother, which made him love his son more than his daughter –me. But coming to this conclution, I now know he loves us with all his heart, and shares some things with my brother and some others with me.

  Understanding how love actually works has erased the emptiness I carried, my heart feels lighter and happier and I can finally say goodbye to jealousy, because that doesn't exist in true love's world.

De sueños y cobardía

   Escribimos sobre lo que soñamos y soñamos con lo que nos falta, porque lo que no nos falta lo disfrutamos. ¿Quién querría imaginar y plasmar en un trozo de papel el abrazo de un ser amado si esa misma criatura existiese a dos metros de él? ¿Quién inventaría aventuras en lugar de vivirlas en sus carnes? Sólo los cobardes y los locos enamorados de ciertas ideas lo harían. ¿Para qué querríamos soñar nimiedades, pudiendo elegir cosas que sólo somos capaces de hacer cuando cerramos los ojos? Los cobardes sueñan con ser valientes, los introvertidos son famosos y admirados por miles de personas dentro de sus cabezas.

   Soñamos con lo que no tenemos y a menudo nos falta lo que somos demasiado cobardes como para conseguir. Por eso yo soy escritora, cobarde y loca enamorada.

Lonely love life

I am currently living that feared moment when everyone else around you has this special someone and you're as alone as it gets. Your friends try to make it less awkward when you hang out together with their couples and stuff, but those flying hearts really don't help. And you're happy that everyone is in love and smiling, but you also hate Cupid for not letting you into the fun.

There are these concerned people who ask you "Why don't you just get a boyfriend?". Well, magic didn't exist last time I checked and it is NOT that easy. What does the world expect from me? Am I supposed to just get on the streets telling people that I'm looking for my soulmate and asking them if they're it?

Love, elusive little shit.

Probably the worst part of this is that you cannot talk about it with anyone else. The people I could talk to about it have that someone, so it's easy for them to tell you to go out and fall in love or even worse, to calm you down with this hateful sentence: "You'll find someone, don't worry."

No one predicts the future, so when people say that I get angry. How dare you? I'm feeling alone and all you can tell me is that I will find someone. When? Where? How the hell do you know that? I might as well die tomorrow and you wouldn't be able to predict that, because no one can predict the future, so… why would you just insult me with that lie, underestimate my pain and dismiss it like that?

That's what I'm feeling right now. And I know things get better, I just don't know how much more loneliness I can take. All I need is someone to tell me the right words, which I don't know myself.

After.

I feel free.

I did something I didn't dare to do, I fought against my fears –even if they sounded silly– and won. My value spreads beyond my long, beautiful locks of hair and now that I've lost them, I know.

Short hair feels fresh, comfortable, new. My friends need a bit longer to recognize me, maybe because I radically cut my hair or maybe because my new, big smile blinds them out. Maybe both.

The thing is, it feels good. I am happy I was scared, because now I know I am also brave. If I want something, I'll fight for it against myself if necessary, and the reward... happiness :)

Before.

I am terrified.

It may sound silly, but I'm cutting my hair tomorrow. And by that I mean I'm gonna lose 90% of it, as it's really long and annoying to wash, brush and wear… but it's my hair.

I honestly think this new hairstyle could look even better on me than my actual one, so the fear is probably based on the way I think. It feels like my long locks make me feminine, beautiful, whereas they hide my face and annoy me almost every day. I'm scared to get such a dramatic change, although that does not mean I don't want it. It just means I'll have to be brave to get it.

I'll work on my feelings from now on, then. And if short hair ends up not being my thing, it grows back!

…right?